


Wounds

by esmecvllens



Series: From Dusk Till Dawn [3]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Edward Cullen Being An Asshole, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Pre-Twilight, Protective Carlisle Cullen, The Cullens - Freeform, Twilight Renaissance, esme cullen being an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmecvllens/pseuds/esmecvllens
Summary: Basically, Rosalie is angsty, Esme is a good mom, Edward is a bitch and Carlisle loves his wife. Some angst, some fluff, some family drama.Or, Esme comes over to Rosalie to talk with her for the first time since Carlisle brought her home.
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen & Esme Cullen, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Esme Cullen & Edward Cullen, Esme Cullen & Rosalie Hale
Series: From Dusk Till Dawn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010493
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> tw// mentions of domestic violence and r*pe
> 
> I love Esme and Rosalie's relationship. I feel like they understand and know each other best, and only Rosalie is able to truly get Esme sometimes.  
> This is Esme-centric. I love her, and she doesn't get enough credit.

_"Have you lost your mind?"_

_Edward's words were sharp as a dagger, with his eyes angry and hands trembling. Esme had never seen him talk to Carlisle that way and she twitched nervously, part of her wanting Carlisle to reprimand him, but her husband just cast his eyes at the floor and sighed, rubbing forehead with his hand. He knew what he did was irresponsible, and she saw how it tore him apart._

_"Why did you bring her here? Don't we have enough issues as it is?"_

_"I couldn't just leave her there," Carlisle replied, looking at Esme to seek for her words of approval, but she kept quiet. "You see how I found her. She would have died. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn't save her?"_

_"A doctor would just take her to a hospital," Edward hissed through his teeth, his jaw clenched so hardly he could barely speak. "But you had to change her. You can't just save everyone, Carlisle!"_

_"You're overstepping, Edward," Esme said sharply and took a step towards her husband. The younger vampire just rolled his eyes; he looked furious, wild, a variety of emotions Esme had never seen on his face before. She wasn't sure if she walked closer to Carlisle because she agreed with him, or because Edward scared her. She hated fighting, and out of habit, her grip on Carlisle's arm tightened a bit.  
_

_"You're taking his side, of course you are," Edward said, and there was something new in his voice - betrayal? Esme held up her hand to touch her son's shoulder, but he shrugged her off. "Just wait. You both know I'm right. This will be dangerous."_

_"I'm not taking any sides," Esme spoke quietly, desperately trying to calm him down. She loathed when they'd fight, it triggered her in the worst way. It happened rarely, but still too often for her liking. "I don't judge Carlisle's choices, and what's done is done. She's family now, please, get used to that."  
_

_Edward just chuckled dryly and before Esme could say something more, he was gone.  
_

* * *

"I'll go talk with her."

Carlisle's eyes flittered at Esme as she was standing up from the living room couch. She nodded and sent him a warm smile, as if she tried to reassure him that's it's a good idea, and let go of her husband's hand that she'd been holding.

Rosalie had been living with them for almost two weeks, but she spent most of the time up in her room. Well, it used to be Esme's craftroom, but she and Carlisle turned it into a temporary bedroom, at least until they figure something out. Esme didn't even need her own space that much, she told her husband. Her easel, paints and books found a new place in her and Carlisle's chamber.

On the first week since Rose's appearance, Esme left a few poetry books by her doors. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries of a very fragile start to their (hopefully) future relationship, so she just picked her favourites and left them waiting for Rosalie to pick up. The next morning, she noticed the books were gone. Rosalie didn't say a word, but Esme knew she enjoyed them. That evening she left Rosalie a sketchbook and a set of pencils. She took those, too.

Esme felt responsible for her. She knew Carlisle did, too, but in different ways. Carlisle was Rosalie's maker - he explained to her how her life would be like now, he took her hunting for the first time and answered her few questions, which she'd whispered with spite under her breath. Rosalie would ask him to leave whenever he wanted to say something more. But it was different with Esme. They didn't exchange many words, but there was an unspoken, invisible tether of understanding between the two women, and Esme suspected that it was their similar past that seemed to bring them a little closer.

"I don't know if that will help," Edward said sceptically from his seat by the piano. He didn't even raise his head up from the notes he'd been writing. Him and Rosalie hadn't exchanged more than ten words in the two weeks since she became part of their coven. "Frankly, I don't think anything will help her."

Edward had been dogged at Rosalie ever since she appeared, and nothing presaged a change in his behaviour. On rare occasions that they saw each other he just ignored her, as if she was just another sculpture Esme had bought to decorate the house with. It hurt his mother to see him show such deeply rooted hate, and without really a valid reason.

Well, there probably was one, but Edward didn't deign on sharing it with anyone yet. 

"But it certainly won't hurt," Esme replied maybe a little bit too harshly, making both men look at her with surprise. Carlisle shook his head, but he surely wasn't about to discourage her. Once Esme set her mind onto something, there was no point in trying to talk her out of it.

"Just be careful," he said. "after all, she's still a newborn."

"She'd never hurt Esme," Edward said dryly and reassuringly looked at his father. He was speaking from his mind reading experience and was probably right, but Carlisle felt a shiver down his spine anyway. The idea of anyone hurting Esme was horrid.

"Have you two lost your minds?" Esme hissed so quietly only their vampire ears would catch it, and she hoped Rosalie wouldn't hear it. Usually, after those words there would be a loud laughter, but that time her voice wasn't amused at all. She couldn't believe them.This kind of attitude maybe was expected from Edward, but Carlisle? "Who do you think she is, a monster? She's just a hurt girl." 

Carlisle quickly reflected and reached for her small hand. "Of course, I'm sorry," he said and kissed her fingers. Esme knew he just wouldn't want to jeopardize anything happening to her and she nodded, looking at her son.

"I'm not," Edward just shrugged, but Esme didn't have the strenghts to talk with him anymore. To be honest, she didn't recognize her own son recently. Was is really the wellness of the family that he was worried about so much? He was always a little bit dramatic and narcissistic, but his reaction was way too exaggerated.

Esme stood in front of the doors to Rosalie's room and knocked a few times, although Rosalie surely knew she was coming and heard everything they said.

"Rosalie?" Esme asked hesitantly. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

It surprised her a little, but Esme walked inside and closed the doors behind her. She wanted to have as much privacy as possible in a house full of vampires.

Rosalie was sitting in an open window - literally sitting on the windowsill, with her legs wagging in the air. She didn't even turn her head towards Esme as she walked in, gazing at the woods behind their house. The night was very bright, it was a full moon, but even if it was pitch black, Rosalie's new vampire eyes would still see everything. Her beautiful, blonde hair fell gently onto her back. It looked so shiny, as if it reflected the light of the stars. Rosalie sat perfectly still, her back straight as a line. She kept herself elegant even when she was by herself, Esme noted. Rosalie was a closed book and didn't let anybody in. Any information that could be read from her way of being was useful to Esme.

The older woman sat on the bed and crossed her legs. 

"Do you want to give me a lesson?" Rosalie scoffed, still looking at the moon. Agression was her usual mode and Esme didn't take her words personally. "Teach me something new, like Carlisle? Thank you, but I'm not in the mood."

Esme sighed, wondering how someone so beautiful and delicate could be so cruel. "No. I just thought you were lonely."

The honesty in her voice threw Rosalie off tracks. She finally looked at Esme, her eyes still so brightly red they were almost glowing in the dark. Esme twitched invontularily and Rosalie chuckled, but there was nothing happy about it.

"You're afraid of me," she stated, as if it was nothing unusual. Esme knit her eyebrows and flittered her eyes at her almost pitifully, which only made the younger vampire more upset. "Don't look at me like that, I don't need anyone's pity."

"I'm not afraid of you, Rose," Esme's gentle, quiet voice surrounded them like soft silk. "And I don't hate you. I'm really happy you're here with us," she said, then sighed after a quick pause.

"I came because I can't stand the thought of you sitting here, all lonely. You don't have to be mean to me."

Esme couldn't help it. She had always been this way - kind, loving, a motherly figure. She couldn't help caring for people. Having Edward fullfilled her needs a little, and she tried not to get too excited, but she couldn't help hoping for Rosalie to love her, too. Someday, of course, but they had to start somewhere.

Her warm words, big, golden eyes and a smile forming on the edges of her lips all made Rosalie trust her. She wasn't like Edward, ice-cold and full of reproaches, or like Carlisle, all kind, but mysterious and prudent. Esme was simple and nice. Rosalie didn't need Edward's mind reading gift to figure out what she wanted, because Esme, unlike the men she chose to love, was straight forward. Rosalie didn't have a reason to hate her, although she wanted to have one. It would be easier to hate all of them and leave.

She was mad at the world around her, she was mad at Royce for doing what he did, she had a grudge towards Carlisle for turning her, and Edward got on her nerves so much she felt like tearing him apart. But Esme was different. There was nothing to hold against her, and it annoyed Rosalie.

She gracefully slipped down from the windowsill and sat in the armchair. Drawing her knees towards her chest, her arms embraced her legs and she sat like that, firm and adamant. Esme exchanged a look with her and smiled, and Rosalie, for the first time, didn't look away.

"You're different than they are," she whispered to Esme, still keeping her eyes at the older vampire. "They're withdrawn. They don't want me here, and I can't think of one reason why Carlisle turned me. If he hates me so much now, why did he do that?"

"It's way more complicated than that, love," Esme replied, and she noticed Rosalie twitching at the last word. "Carlisle doesn't hate you. He doesn't hate anyone, truly. His feelings about being a vampire are complicated, but his need to help people isn't. Give him time, once he wraps his head around it you'll see how kind he really is."

"He's withdrawn, like he's scared of me," Rosalie repeated strongly. "and Edward repels me, but I don't know what have I done to them. I didn't ask your husband to- to do the thing he did. I wanted to die, I was ready for it. I didn't ask to be saved. As I heard Royce's walking away, I didn't even have the strenght to hate him! I thought I was dead, and I was glad. I was so happy!" Rosalie spoke loudly and passionatelly, full of emotions she needed to let out. She was so unsettled her hands started shaking.

"I thought that the pain was gone, but it had only truly started. I wanted to die. I still do. It is immoral that I'm still here, it goes against nature, it goes against logic! I don't understand, why! Why am I paying for someone else's choices? I don't want to be what I am," she spit out those last words as if she was disgusted with them. Esme didn't cut in her monologue. She felt Rosalie had kept those words inside for a long time. Her voice was so sharp and sad it tore Esme's dead heart into pieces.

"I don't want to be what I am," she whispered and hid her face, resting head on her knees. She looked as she was weeping. Esme felt an overwhelming need to hug her, but she wasn't so sure she would appreciate it. Maybe it was better to wait until Rosalie makes the first step.

"I'm so angry, Esme." It was the first time she had said her name, singingly rolled it at the top of her tongue. "I'm just so angry."

"I was angry, too," Esme said quietly. "I understand you well, love."

"I doubt it."

The older woman smiled sadly, playing with her wedding ring. "So it seems Carlisle hadn't told you about me. Of course. He wouldn't want to disrespect my privacy."

Rosalie just shrugged.

"I know what happened to you, and believe me when I say that I am more familiar with it than you think," Esme muttered - now her gaze was locked at the moon outside. Everytime she would bring up the memories from her past, it was like she was reliving them back again, back in that house, back with that damned man. If she had a heart, it would be racing wildly, but she felt it was necessary to show Rosalie that they were not that different, and after taking a deep breath, Esme started talking.

"I wanted to kill myself when Carlisle found me. I jumped off a cliff."

She was still looking outside, but she felt Rosalie staring at her wordlessly.

"I lost my baby boy just the day before and I felt death would be better than that overwhelming grief," she kept on with her voice low and quiet. "I missed my baby so much, and I didn't want to keep living the way I did. Carlisle found me already in the morgue. The other doctors all though I was dead, only Carlisle could still hear my heart. I'm so thankful that he was in the hospital that day."

"So you're trying to tell me that it gets better," Rosalie scoffed. "That I'm going to find my own Carlisle and live happily ever after."

"Yes, and no. I want to help you realize that Carlisle turning you doesn't condemn you. You still deserve love and happiness, and you will find it, although maybe not as you imagined them to be."

"What if I don't want it? What if the only thing I ever wanted was taken away from me the second your husband bit me?"

Esme kept quiet at that. She knew what Rosalie was talking about, and her heart ached for the girl.

"We are not the same," the younger woman was still speaking quietly, with her voice soft but her words haunting. She was hurting so much Esme could almost feel it. "I feel sorry for you, but we are not. You decided to take your own life, I was raped so brutally it killed me, and by a man I trusted and loved. I could have been alive right now if I wasn't so prideful."

"You didn't let me finish," Esme answered calmly. "I said we had a similar past. You know, I still tremble when somebody screams close to me. I feel like crying when people smoke around me, because the smell reminds me of him. I'm terrified after making the smallest mistakes, even though I know Carlisle is not him, and he'd never hurt me, but- I'm still not used to that."

At that, Rosalie kept quiet. Her eyesight was glued onto Esme so intensively she forgot to wink.

"One time, he pulled my hair so strongly it stayed in his hand," the brunette whispered. "I had to wear hats outside so people wouldn't ask about it. He screamed at me, spit on me, beat me. He broke my bones. Once, I remember, he came back home in a bad mood, I don't even know what was the reason, and I was reading in the kitchen. I didn't even provoke him... the crack I heard when he stepped on my wrist still sounds in my head sometimes. He just stomped on them with those big, black shoes he used to wear, and broke my bones like tree branches. A cruel man he was."

"Esme-"

"He raped me so often I've lost count," Esme kept on, but her voice was getting more and more quiet. Suddenly, she remembered every detail she spent years trying to push away - blood dripping from her forehead, bruises on her stomach and breasts, cold bathroom tiles under her knees as she tried to stand up and yell for help. She was still looking at the moon and seemed so into her memories Rosalie might as well had disappeared.

The blonde girl was beginning to feel shameful, and with every word leaving Esme's mouth she wanted to scream more and more. Esme was not much older than she was, and already endured so much. She should be bitter, or angry, or sad, but she only emitted love, and Rosalie wondered how was that even possible. Maybe she was an angel.

"One time I tore his shirt while doing laundry and he hit me so hard I fainted, couldn't leave home for a week after that," Esme twitched at the memory and leaned her body on the wall. She finally looked at Rosalie. "And when I got pregnant and ran away, I was the happiest I ever had been. I had to fight for my baby and I finally did. I was free, finally free, and my biggest dream was about to come true. I was supposed to become a mother. But then my baby died and I felt worse than when he was hurting me. Much worse."

Esme's voice was shaking before, but now it broke and she wept out loud. Rosalie maybe was distanced and upset, but she wasn't a monster. She quickly rushed towards Esme and cuddled her tightly, and it didn't feel weird or uncomfortable, as it would usually get for Rosalie when she had to hug people. Esme rested head on her shoulder and it felt only natural and good, and Rosalie embraced her with her long arms, feeling as if the cards were reversed - as if she came here to calm Esme down, not the other way around.

"I'm sorry," Rosalie whispered almost voicelessly. If she could cry, she would. If not for how shameful she felt, then surely at Esme's story. She didn't deserve any of what life had for her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

Esme smiled sadly and looked at her with those benevolent, golden eyes. Rosalie only then realized how breathtakingly beautiful Esme was. Her auburn curls were so naturally shiny it stunned her, and her touch was so gentle that for a second Rosalie couldn't believe she's a vampire, too. She was young, but there was something on her kind face that was almost motherly, and it made her look way more mature. Now, that Rosalie knew her story, she thought that there's nothing odd about it. Esme had been through so many terrible things, she was doomed to look older than she was. 

Rosalie knew Esme should be upset with her - she had stepped over many boundaries. Her words were spoken to hurt. But the unnecessary cruelty made her feel guilty, and she only hoped that with the tight embrace she was telling Esme all the things she wasn't yet able to speak out loud.

"Are you alright?" Rosalie whispered, and Esme nodded gently, but she felt how shattered the older vampire still was. Remembering was hard, Rosalie knew that well. Her new, brighter brain remembered more than she used to when she was human. Those memories seemed freshier now, stronger and more vibrant. Sometimes she still felt Royce's tight grip on her shoulders and alcohol-reeking breath on her breasts.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Esme straightened up, and her breath finally calmed down. They exchanged looks, but after a second Rosalie broke the connection.

"No, I am," she repeated, desperate for Esme to believe her. Out of the blue, she realized that she would kill before letting somebody hurt her again. She was so small and vulnerable, and an instinct was unlocked within Rosalie, one she didn't know she had. It was unusual, and it made Rosalie feel unsettled - she never felt those kinds of feelings about anyone, especially not somebody she's just met, but there was something so sweet about Esme that Rosalie wanted to protect her, even though she was way younger than her.

"You have every right to be mad. God, I shouldn't have overshared. I didn't mean to... I guess I wanted to show how Carlisle saved me," Esme cringed a little and seemed even smaller than she truly was. "My husband has many great traits, but the best one is how he believes in people. I'm the happiest I've ever been with him and Edward. I hope someday you will look at it this way, too. Not now, but someday."

Rosalie just shrugged. The moment of weakness was gone, she stopped cuddling Esme and distanced herself a bit again.

"I know it's hard, I do. Just... know that you can always talk to me," the older girl said and ran fingers through her hair. Rosalie could see that she didn't mean to open up so much and it made her a bit uncomfortable now, when she got herself back together, but Rosalie was grateful for it. It was even harder to find a reason to hate her after hearing all those things, but again, why did she even want to hate her in the first place?

"And it's alright whether you choose to stay with us or not. It's up to you."

Esme stood up and walked towards the doors, and Rosalie felt a sudden urge to catch her hand and ask her to stay for a moment more.

"Wait," she muttered, and Esme immediately turned towards her. Rosalie wasn't sure what she should say. Should she ask her to stay and talk, should she tell her more about how she feels, should she just stay quiet? A few seconds passed, and there seemed to be an ocean of unspoken words between them. Rosalie cleared her throat out of habit.

"Thank you for the sketchbook."

She wanted to tell her much more, but there will be time for that. Esme grinned radiantly and nodded, aware of everything Rosalie delivered with that simple sentence.

"Of course, love."

"You're very brave, you know," Rosalie whispered, against her own character. "It's impressive."

"There's not much impressive about me."

Rosalie just shrugged at that. Esme walked towards the doors and opened it to walk out, and then Rosalie spoke again, she couldn't stop herself. Curiosity was getting the better of her.

"Can I ask something?"

"Of course."

"If that's alright with you, I wonder... What happened to him?" she whispered, watching Esme's face twitch. "To your human husband? Did you kill him?"

"No. But he's dead."

"I would have killed him," Rosalie said, and she was so absolutely certain of it, it made Esme shiver a bit. Was she glad that Charles was dead? Yes, although she didn't like admitting it to herself. Did she regret not killing him? No. She wouldn't want to harm him, even after all those years by his side. And she would hate it if Carlisle killed him, although she knew he wanted to after she told him what Charles had done to her. She didn't want him to betray his beliefs for her. 

"I'm not a vicious person, Rose, I never was. It's alright if you would, but I'm afraid I'm not like you," Esme replied, and she opened the doors wider to let her know that the conversation was over. Before she walked out of the room, she said, "I never asked Edward to kill him."

Esme left the room and walked to her and Carlisle's bedroom. She was overwhelmed and needed some time to calm down again, maybe she would do some painting. Dwelling on the past never did her any good, and she felt a bit tired just from remembering - not physically, of course, her body didn't get tired anymore, but she had to let her mind rest for a moment. Coming to visit Rosalie, she didn't plan on tellings the things she did. She was always a very open person, but the things she told Rosalie she always kept hidden. Even Carlisle didn't know many details of her human life.

Speaking of Carlisle, he was sitting on their bed, even paler than usually, his back straight and hands placed on his knees. Esme turned the lights on and flinched a little when she saw the expression on his face. She knit her eyebrows in confusion and froze by the doorstep, not sure what she should do - he looked a bit sick, and it caught her off guard.

"You heard?" she asked the second she realized that he wasn't sick or upset, but sad. He stood up, and she immediately wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head towards his chest as if she expected to hear a heartbeat there. Carlisle hugged her, too, and placed a kiss on her head in a protective manner.

She was holding onto him tightly, as if that hug had the strenght to erase all bad memories from her mind, and she truly felt it did. There was no place safer for her than by his side.

Carlisle knew her past, she told him many years ago, before they got married. She had problems with being intimate with him, and one evening she sat down with him and told him everything. He held her for what seemed to be hours, but he was mad - truly, incredibly angry, and he left to hunt not so long after. Edward went with him to keep an eye on his father. Esme never asked about it, but she knew he had to somehow put his anger to an use, and hunting was the most harmless.

"I did," he whispered and kissed the smooth skin on her forehead. "My brave wife. I'm sorry you're still hurting so."

She let out a soft sigh against the fabric of his shirt. It always caught her by surprise when he was this gentle with her, this loving - she never experienced it before meeting him. He was so kind to her, and she didn't even have to ask for it. But again, maybe that's how a healthy marriage worked, she just never experienced it before. 

"I'm alright, believe me," she whispered. "I get better everyday, thanks to you."

"I can only trust you would tell me if it wasn't the truth," he replied, cuddling her head towards his chest. She nodded as a response. He knew how deeply his wife was wounded. They'd had this conversation many times before, and Esme could swear she's all well and healed, but Carlisle still wasn't so sure. He didn't share it with her, but he was certain she was to be haunted by her memories for years and years to come. He would be by her side to help her overcome the fears, of course, but seeing her suffer was wrecking.

The worst were her episodes. It happened two times before - once, when Carlisle pulled her hair during sex. She never told him not to do it, and it was more of a reflex than an intentional gesture, but she started weeping and begging him to let go of her. Her eyes got twice as big with terror; in an overwhelming wave of fear she pushed him off herself and covered her head with hands, as if she waited for him to hit her and wanted to protect herself. He was never more confused in his entire lifetime. Not knowing how to help her calm down, he talked to her softly until she became herself again, and then he held her wrapped in his arms for the rest of the night, whispering apologies into her ear, telling her that she's safe, that she'll always be safe with him. He obviously saw hysteria in his work before, but seeing Esme in that state of absency and horror shook him like nothing before.

The second time was when she was in the city with Edward and was only beginning to learn how to drive a vehicle. It was a bit risky, her driving in a city full of people, but she was so eager to learn they didn't have the heart to talk her down. Nobody ever taught her, so she naturally didn't become a master in the blink of an eye, she needed practice, and Carlisle knew she would never hurt a human, so he left to work and his family drove to the city for shopping. Esme wanted to do it herself, but Edward insisted on going with her and keeping an eye on her, and it as a blessing, because Esme caused a minor accident. It was nothing, she just broke a light of another vehicle. She walked out of the car, wanting to apologize to the other driver and pay for the damage, but the man was so upset he jumped out of his machine and started screaming at her.

Edward caught the immediate change in her thoughts the second that man raised his voice at her. Esme's thoughts seemed to stop - she stood there, with her hand still reaching for her wallet, but she became so scared and confused out of the blue, absent and frozen with fear. The other driver kept saying offences, and she just froze, not able to move or breathe, her lips started twitching. Edward saw all the memories that were repeating in her brain and quickly drove her home, but she was almost catatonic in the car, not understanding anything he'd told her. Her thoughts were all over the place. He never got rid of the sight of her on the passenger's seat, shaking, with her legs drawn to her chest, looking outside the window with her sight absent. He wanted to protect her, but didn't know what to do. For the first time in his life he was truly helpless, because Esme seemed to be only reliving the horrors of her past life. Nothing in her thoughts gave him any clues on how to help her. She only came back to reality when Carlisle came back from work - Edward called him on the hospital phone and he came back home immediately, abandoning his work shift, but Esme was way more important than work. She was more important than anything, really.

But that was in the past. She hadn't reacted this way for years now, and Carlisle and Edward became more cautious around her to help her get better, and she truly was - everyday, just as she told him.

"I don't deserve you," she muttered, tearing him out of his thoughts. He cupped her face in his hands and rubbed thumbs against the marble skin on her cheeks. "You treat me way too well."

He shook his head. "You think too little of yourself, and I wish I could change that. If only you saw what I see!" 

He was speaking with his voice very passionate, yet quiet and tender. He always tried to speak calmly to her, as if she was a fearful doe he didn't want to startle. Esme wasn't sure if it annoyed her or really warmed her heart.

"What do you see?" she chuckled, her arms still wrapped around his body. Carlisle smiled at her and stroked her cheek again.

"I see a very brave, incredibly smart woman," he answered. "She's very determined and loving, beautiful and special. I'm most sorrowful that she had to experience all those terrible things in her life."

She looked at him as if he put stars on the sky every night, and Carlisle felt that death would be better than letting her down. She put so much trust and love within him it still seemed unbelievable to him. He didn't know what he'd ever done to deserve Esme. He held her close and protectively placed a hand on the small of her back.

"She sounds great," Esme smiled, but flittered her eyes towards the floor - she always got a little embarassed when they exchanged such personal, intimate words. She wasn't used to that. It was still fresh and new after ten years with him. She hated how easy it was to make her flattered, but Carlisle adored it and hoped it would never be gone. If she could blush, her cheeks would be bloody red. 

"She is the greatest," he nodded. "and I love her."

"I love you too," she muttered. "with everything I am."

"You will never suffer again, Esme."

And she believed him.

He hadn't left her side for the rest of the evening. When they sat by the fireplace on the living room couch, he started braiding her hair out of habit and the need to constantly occupy his hands with something. She took her embroidery hoop and took up working on a picture she'd been embroiding. As a human, she was never any good at it - her eyes needed glasses she couldn't afford, and it was hard to do such small handwork. With her new vampire abilities she got much better at it. She planned on embroidering enough pictures to hang them all around the house. She never got to do those small gestures in her human life, and the thought of filling their home up with her spirit made her feel incredibly happy and warm.

Rosalie appeared on the staircase about ten minutes later, lurking in the shadows. She looked over the living room with her wary eyes, but Edward was nowhere to be found, so she quickly walked downstairs. She was moving soundlessly, even more gracefully than Esme, and leaving a strong scent of flowers and tangerine behind her. Esme gave her one of her perfumes before, to make her feel more welcomed.

She clearly wasn't the one to explain herself or apologize for her previous behaviour, just stormed into the living room and sat on the armchair usually occupied by Edward. She had a sketchbook in hand, and started drawing as soon as she sat down comfortably. Her eyes didn't leave the sheet of paper.

Esme felt Carlisle's arm embracing her, and she rest her head on his chest. Words weren't needed here - she looked over at him, and he was smiling softly, keeping his gaze locked at Rosalie. He, too, was surprised, but very happy about her change of behaviour. Esme didn't want to disturb Rosalie, so she went back to the embroidery hoop, but her heart felt whole, as if she finally found a missing piece. Rosalie came downstairs to them for the first time, no bargaining, no words of anger, just quietly sat there with Carlisle and Esme, but it was a milestone, Esme knew that much.

Maybe she didn't want to leave them. Maybe their family would grow bigger after all.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is esmecvllens and I'm desperate for more twilight mutuals, come say hi!


End file.
